Joelle Meets the Guy from Last Night

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Joelle’s bold attempt at cheerfulness assumed the look of a constipated mannequin, only she had a jacket at her feet and a warm body squirming underneath it.

The guy with the baseball cap nosed around the store, pausing at the intersection of each aisle, looking left to right.

“He’s coming this way,” Joelle reported, although mystery man was simply making his way to the end of the store where Joelle stood in the corner. Having just opened, the store was mostly empty of guests.

“Does he know where you work? Hmm? He doesn’t seem interested in purchasing any products. What am I asking? You don’t even know if you had sex with him.” She lightly kicked Tessa’s side with the toe of her shoe to warn her, “Here he comes.”

The guy with no name played it cooled with a delicate smile. He carried himself like a trained athlete, not someone who had been up half the night. Joelle watched with suspicious delight. He took a bigger step to greet Joelle, as if had attained his final destination.

“Can you please tell me if Tessa is working this morning, and if she is, where I might find her?” He said, his head poised for an invisible pillow, and then his eyes shifted to her feet.

“Strange. That clump on the floor,” he waved to her feet, “appears to be breathing.” He took off his shades, and looked directly into Joelle’s eyes, leaving her breathless. Joelle envisioned hopping on the back of a motorbike with him and shooting down the highway with the wind in her hair, her body snug against what could only be taut muscles under his button-down shirt. Certainly Tessa could forgive a little sightseeing.

A click, click, click invaded her morning daydream. It was Bianca’s heels forecasting doom, or at the very least, her presence.

“Hmm,” Joelle shrugged, and a smile spilled across her face. “So it is.”

“And this is a common?” he played along. A wave of hair hung over his dark eyes, framed by long lashes and a hint of wrinkles that endeared Joelle to him anymore. She placed him at late twenties, so he was older, and she reasoned, more mature.

Well, you should have a look at comments I leave when I don’t like something… I’m not very shy or interested in empty platitudes, so I do let people have it at times, Amy. I think I may be an awful person that way.

Yay! This story took me a long time to write, too. I’m glad you don’t have to wait either. I hope you’re using the Tab above called “Lash.” That’s what I ended up calling this story. Enjoy! Thanks again for all your reading. That’s so nice.